Love?
by Ramia
Summary: A connection greater than any other; one older than time itself
1. Chapter 1

So love at first sight, fact or fiction?

What the hell. How can anyone even ask such a question?

Clearly whoever is asking has ever been in or experienced love. Not lust, I want your body now kinda stuff, though that is a factor. I'm talking about the real thing.

You know where you find it hard to think clearly. At least about anything besides him. The craving for a single look, longing of a smile, the yearning of a soft gentle touch. The feeling of being 10 feet off the ground. Surreal, like an out of body experience, though not that I know what that feels like either. You're flying above everyone else. Somehow not quite connected to the rest of the human race, because you are experiencing something that the rest of them, everyone else cannot even begin to imagine. You are in the moment, the now. The past and the future have no impact, they cannot touch you. The shear power of the emotion makes all else fall from you like water. And oh the smile. That grin from ear to ear. You know the silly one you just can't seam to wipe off you face. You are having the best day ever of your whole existence, and you know that you're rubbing it in everyone's face, with that stupid grin. But you just can't help it. You couldn't wipe it off it you wanted to. And you don't, want to. You should feel guilty about it, making them all suffer around you, but you don't. And you don't feel bad that you don't either. So confusing to others, so plain to you. The glory, the joy of being in and being loved.

That's what I'm talking about. How can any fool think that such a thing could just happen? You cannot just know from a fleeting glance at someone. That kind of stuff takes time. Right? I know guys can see a girl and want to jump in her pants, but that is not the same thing. Don't get me wrong there is something real fun about a NCMO (non-committal make out). There is a time and place for everything. But you don't get any connection from a NCMO, not if you're doing it right. Well at least that's what I've been told. Being to much of a chicken I wouldn't rightly know.

So you cannot know for sure, just by seeing someone, once or twice or even a few times, that you are in love. It just doesn't happen. There is no magic wand or fairy godmother going around "Bling, you're in love". Cupid is not shooting arrows at unsuspecting bystanders.  
True love is friendship caught on fire. It grows from something, it does not just happen.

Unless it was waiting for you.


	2. Chapter 2

The Dream

The Dream

I remember the first dream we had together. I remember it like I just woke up from it, in that moment right before you forget everything.

I remember the smile, the sun and the eyes. I could never forget those eyes. So deep, so dark, and mine.

You were waiting for me. You'd been waiting for awhile you said. You knew I would come but you were almost beginning to wonder how long I was planning to take. Almost, but not quite. And then you flashed me that smile. The smile that told my heart I was in the right place. The one that melded to it. The smile just for me.

There were others there. I didn't know who they were. You were all just about to leave somewhere. You made them wait for me, one more time. It was a long journey they kept saying, had to start soon.

You smiled and took my hand. I felt the charge, the connection I had forgotten I'd been missing. I knew you, how long had we been apart? I couldn't remember.

The sun was warm. It was like home, but I didn't know I had left home. How strange to find it here.

It was a long way to go. I only noticed when it came time to leave, just how far I had to go back.

You told me you'd wait for me. Smiled for me again. That you didn't mind waiting forever and a day, if I'd be there. Made me promise to come back, you'd be there waiting for me. The music played. That melody that is always right at the back of my mind that is so familar but I can't quite put my finger on it.

You touched my hand again, smiled. Those eyes, they shone, reflecting the whole universe in a single moment. I knew you. The past, the present and future all flowed into one for that faction of a second as we connected. I opened my mouth to reply.

And I am awake. Instantly pulled back accross the distance as my eyes open.

It's been over a decade, but I still remember the first dream. It's the same one that comes when you're gone away. The one where I try to find you, before I knew your name. When I first heard you call to me.

When I heard your heart calling mine.


	3. Chapter 3

The voice

The voice

If anyone ever knew what was play was on the stage of my mind, I'd be locked up. Some people see crazy coming and cross the street. Society takes crazy and locks it up.

If I told you the Sunbeams were talking to me, some would know I was talking about hyper 3year olds. Others would wonder why beams of light had a voice I could hear and was I answering them. Then they'd lock me up and toss the key.

So you can understand my hesitation to share. It's one thing to talk about a dream I've been able to remember for over decades, into a new century even, and revist often. To lightly infer a connection beyond normal perception, ageless and timeless at the same moment.

What would you say if told you I hear voices. Well only one other voice and my own. Especially when I recall those eyes. Long before the name came, the voice was there. Comforting, reassuring, often the voice of reason. I am not a reasonable person, so I know for certain it's not my voice. It's never far away. And at night it was the voice I heard when I fell asleep.

Every new house, every new school, every new city, that was the constant.

I found myself looking for those eyes. They were so real when I slept. They had to exist in the waking world too, right? And so I began searching.

For as long as I can remember I have been searching, waiting and watching for those eyes and the voice that calls me and knows my name.


	4. Chapter 4

Marriage was a choice I thought long and hard about. It was definitely something I wanted.

There were certain things I wished for and other things were a must.

Every guy I ever liked, or crushed on or dated always came into play. You marry who you date, you date who you marry.

Even back in grade school, I knew what I wanted. The tall dark and handsome knight in shining armor. Wouldn't hurt if he rode a white charger (not - I'd take a black stallion any day) either.

Taller than me, so I could lean into his shoulder. Perfect hugging, holding, dancing height.

Deep, dark eyes I could lose myself in. The color didn't matter, just so long as there was something to them, real depth. Green, I liked green and brown and deep blue...

Dark curly hair I could tangle my fingers in. Not so curly they'd get stuck, just enough wavy to make heart flutter. Hair, yes hair was a must. Lots of hair.

Smile that could melt an iceberg. Warm (good for cuddling up to) funny (laughter makes everything better) Smart (nothing worse than an empty headed pretty boy)

I wanted someone who would "get" me. Could understand my crazy heart and wandering mind. I needed someone I could commit to and get lost in completely. Someone who would be my very best friend and light that friendship on fire. Someone who would protect me and watch out for me and be with me, no matter what. I wanted to be some one's first choice. I played allot of second fiddle. I wanted someone who thought I was amazing and couldn't compare to anyone else - in the good way. I wanted to be some one's lottery. The first and foremost. The last thought at night, first thought in the morning, and dreaming about all night long. It's what I would be doing, can't I have the same in return? Delusions of grandeur? So came the list.

These are not all that unrealistic expectations. Perfect isn't that far off. Is it? Don't I deserve that? I mean really.

I dated allot. Other than being a whole lot of fun, it was much easier to get along with guys, than petty silly girls. I liked being nice and being true to myself. Not many girls around me felt the same way.

To them it was always about the latest conquest. What they could get a guy to do for them in exchange for small favors. Cat and mouse. It made me sick. Those stupid games.

Each guy taught me something I wanted or didn't. Fun was important. So was passion. I was NOT going to have a smoker. It's like licking an ashtray. I don't care what else he has going for him or what car he drives, that is a deal breaker. Though the car thing does bring up an interesting point. For certain cars, I could careless about the driver. All of them foreign - Italian mostly, and the Vanquish.

Oh it is a very good thing I didn't cross paths with many sports cars. The right car was a back door past any of my moral inclinations. I would have hopped in the backseat or front seat in a second. That was not something to let anyone of them know about. Nope, do not let on about the car thing - EVER. Like the snake thing - No one knew that either.

Smoking though was still a deal breaker, no matter what the car or Bike.

So is the wussy, soggy-faced frog kisser. Put some passion into it buddy. Kissing is an art form not a lilly-padded, pond dunking. Use your hole mouth, brush your teeth, try a breath mint, or gum. Kissing is an participation, action sporting event. You're supposed to get all riled up and into it. Weather its prune, peach, apricot, or alfalfa. Give it your all.

I thought allot about this.

It surprised me to learn that I wasn't alone. Watching, waiting, protecting.

Even when I was alone, I was never on my own.

Only at night could I see that.

**A/N: just edited update.**** Will get to more soon, promise.**


	5. Chapter 5

How does she do that

How does she do that?

With one look I forget everything. How can one small insignificant girl have that big an effect on me?

The truth? Because she isn't insignificant, not to me. But she doesn't know that, she cannot know that.

The truth remains hidden from her. Only I can know and only I can admit it late at night when I'm alone thinking of only of her.

But those eyes! Damn those eyes. The whole universe is in those eyes. How does she do that?

More infuriating is when she looks at them with that empty eyed look. The one that doesn't show the depth of her intelligence.

The intelligence those guys couldn't handle. So she gives them the empty look and they swoon all over her. Trying to impress her with their own stupidity.

I see it all. That instant flash of sadness that they do not get her true beauty. Oh that intelligence in those eyes. She has wisdom that frightens them, it only excites me more.

I want to know those eyes!

To have a conversation with that wit and intelligence! To have her look at me with the depth of who she is, and not in anger.

No. I push the thought away, down deep and away.

And then the smile. She turns on that smile. The whole world stops moving when she smiles, holding it's breath.

What I would give to have her smile at me.

NO. Stop it. She is nothing more than another silly, insignificant girl. I lie to myself again, turn and walk the other way.

Only at night do I allow myself to think of her.

At night I call to her, in her dreams, and she comes.

I know her name, yet she doesn't know mine.

I never allow her to see who I am.

She doesn't know why she comes, only that she must, that she wants to.

Little does she know the power she holds over me. If she ever called to me I would be powerless to refuse.

Anything she requested of me I would have no choice but to obey.

Only once has she called to me. The one time I came to rescue her.

I belong to her, and she does not know it.

At night she is mine.


	6. Chapter 6

What do I know?

**_**AN - giving this another go. Somethings still left unsaid :)**_**

What do I know about love?

With my limited experience, knowledge and skill set; some would call it naivety.

To me it doesn't really matter and I could care less.

I would tell you that I don't believe in love, but that would be a lie.

It would be a cover to protect and hide so that I am not found out. So that no one could get inside. My fear; that my own downfall, my undoing would come from within.

And so I do what it takes to keep everyone out. Maintain that impenetrable wall.

However all that protection means never fully experiencing and living life, right? It's always being in flight or fight mode, never fully feeling and being in the moment.  
The moment. You know, that indescribable moment right before a first kiss where time stands still and the entire universe holds it's breath for just a split second.

Never being present in that moment completely is to deny that experience.

It is to never really know.

I can recall such moments in my own history.

Two of them.

Not that there were only ever two first kisses, far from it. Kissing was a sport I enjoyed and did very well in, or so I was often told. You could call it an Olympic event.

Some were fantastic, some were note worthy, some were quickly forgotten and some were simply unforgettable.

Never underestimate the potential in a truly extraordinary kiss.

Toe-popping in fact.

To be open and let that person see that vulnerability is to find that moment in time.

There is nothing like it in all existence.

And yet what do I know. What can someone such as I tell you of love?

Does it exist? Is it real? I believe that it is. I must. I think.

Is that a hope for things unseen?

I do know that moment. I long to feel that moment again in the quiet still hours when I am alone with my own thoughts, in the hours when my defenses are to much to maintain.

When I allow myself to come out and be myself. Then, then truth can be seen. When the dancer is free to dance. But there is no one around to see that truth.

And when my strength is returned the curtain closes and the wall is restored.

I am hidden once more from the outside world; the dancer is gone.

Wishing in that last moment before the curtain closes that someone, somewhere truly 'got' me, could know who I am and could just love me.

And then the moment passes. It fades back into memory. Filed away into the abyss, but never forgotten.

I am lucky. Some in this life will never know what it is like to experience that moment. And I have felt it; twice.

Once it was even returned.


	7. Chapter 7

The Story.

His name was Richard. Or Randal. Or Roman, No, no not Roman, Rowan maybe?

It's been long enough that I don't remember his name, and it doesn't even matter; now.

It did back then.

Back then I never could have imagined a time when I would be capable of forgetting who he was. I can barely recall what he looked like now.

Who? - the guy from the first attempt.

The same guy who just a short time earlier, before I had breasts and while I still wore braided pigtails, I had taught a lesson to. The one I punched square in the face for hitting a little kid. Not that I was very big myself, but come on, who hits tiny little girls? I might have been barely four feet, but she was three foot nothing. I was not going to stand there and let that happen. I had brothers; I knew how to throw a proper punch. So I told him to stop it. When he didn't, and said "who's going to make me", I hit him square in the jar. Boy was he surprised. By the end he was bloody and I wasn't. Guess who wasn't the school bully the next day either?

Fast forward a few years. Anatomy changes a bit; hips and breasts show up. I gained a foot in height; traded in the braids for longer locks and the occasional pony tail. It was time of a whole different kind of cute. Only I didn't know it.

He didn't even recognize me as the same little girl that beat the tar out of him. He'd moved on to almost high school by then. I was getting a fair bit of attention from all sorts of places, and I had no idea why.

I did know that the girls around me were petty, vain and in my opinion rather ridiculous. It was so much easier and simpler to hang out with boys. And there were plenty around to hang out with.

It's an interesting transition from child to woman. Many times I wonder if it might not be better to separate the two sexes for a few years until all that awkwardness gets worked out and hormones stabilize again. Just a thought.

I should have known better, I really should have. I do now, I didn't then.

Known better than to get in that car with him. I already knew he was a liar. I knew he liked causing pain to others, being the dominant; in control.

Yet it was cold and dark and it was a long walk; alone.

At the time I was glad to get out of the cold. Thinking it was a god-send. What was the worst that could happen?

The fact that he opted for to go the 'long way around'. That and …

Oh, so many things. Things I look back at now and see all these warning signs, I didn't see then.

Why had I kissed him that week earlier? Not that he was anything special, and certainly no great kisser, but it didn't deter him. That had only seemed to add fuel to his fiery pursuit. That dammed friendly back door.

I still say I was to nice for my own good, but that's who I am.

So I found myself alone, in the dark in the car with someone who refused to accept the word no as an answer. And I didn't know that.

When I finally listened to that voice screaming at me from inside, it was to late.

The door wouldn't open. Dammed child lock was not working in my favor that day – night.

I was trapped.

The one thing I will never forget is that laugh. When his true colours I had often suspected, came shattering through his pitiful well constructed act.

Too late?

The kicking and kissing and grabbing and hitting and fighting and scratching and crying and biting and pleading - too late?

That moment of utter and absolute terror. There was no escape. He knew it, I knew it and he knew I knew it.

The pain. The terror.

Too late? - Almost

Suddenly he was there.

I don't know where he came from, how he knew or how he found me.

But he did.

It was over and somehow I was safe. I was ok.

Terrified and yet I was protected.

The knife was gone; scattered and lost somewhere in the dark.

The attempt foiled. The attacker fled.

Did I report it? No.

I didn't need to.

My revenge?

Turns out he was in a stolen car.

It had mechanical issues a few blocks away – in front of the police station.

Something about the car needing gas to operate.

And he'd wasted the gas idling the vehicle while … pursuing his intent.

It was not his first offense. This was strike three.

Also, according to the papers, the driver had had his license revoked for multiple speeding infractions.

And he was over 17, just shy of being 18. Old enough to be tried and convicted as an adult.

Somebody got to do actual time.

Somehow I'm not all that saddened by that either.

Let's recap shall we.

Beat up the school bully - check

Attempted rape – check

Foiled attempt – check

Would be attacker caught – check

Idiot attacker – double check

Lesson learned – check.

Next?


End file.
